


Born This Way

by purrpickle



Category: Glee
Genre: -y, Also references to and pining of finchel and brittana because this is the second season, And parents who want to do everything for their kids, And thought of, Animosity and tension, Because that's what it says on ffnet XD, But don't know how to because of, Drama, Episode: s02e18 Born This Way, F/F, If you find something you want me to tag, Long Road Ahead, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please tell me and i will!, Romance, Science Fiction, Soulmatey connectiony stuff, What-If, and, if needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrpickle/pseuds/purrpickle
Summary: As Rachel Berry grew up, she began to realize that she was sharing her life with someone. Someone whose pain she could feel, whose emotions would affect hers. Someone she had no hope of knowing who they were. Then, one day in glee, Finn broke her nose...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (First chapter originally posted 7/22/2011, with chapter 5 [the 6th chapter] being its first update in four years.)

Ever since she could remember, Rachel Berry had been aware that there was something different about herself. It wasn't until she got older that she figured out her life was entwined with someone else's. She'd have phantom pains with no physical evidence of having been hurt: she'd feel a skinned knee burn into existence though her knees were flawless, and when she was eight, her wrist was excruciatingly broken – twice. Obviously the person she was connected to hadn't taken it seriously when they were told to take it easy.

In the beginning, her parents had taken her to the doctor at every pain, convinced there was some kind of disorder she was suffering from, or that it was all in her head. But no physician could explain it, and as Rachel grew older, she started having a sneaking suspicion (aided by her sixth sense) that what she was experiencing was akin to the cases of twins having a special awareness of each other. This theory was bolstered when she realized that a lot of her sudden and intense mood swings that had started intruding on her life weren't coming from _her_ , either.

Eventually, she convinced her fathers that what she was feeling was real, and that it wasn't mental _or_ physical; it was more likely metaphysical. They decided to support her, understanding when she would abruptly change emotions or groan in pain. They wrote her notes for school when she needed them, and they tried to brainstorm ways to _find_ the person she was connected to. Rachel was very interested in if the person felt what _she_ felt, and hurt when _she_ hurt; and if they were, indeed, her soulmate. Because there _had_ to be a reason she and another person were connected…

To be honest, love was the best reason she could hope for.

Unfortunately, as the years passed, she came no closer to figuring out _how_ to find someone who you could only identify by asking when and how they hurt, and if they were unreasonably angry last Sunday morning. Though she didn't give up, Rachel was beginning to understand that with the billions of people on Earth, she'd probably only meet the person when she was _supposed_ to meet them. However, that didn't stop her from being afraid that when they _did_ meet, it would be too late.

But she needn't have worried. Near the end of her junior year of high school, Finn Hudson accidentally broke her nose.

Getting knocked to the floor and feeling a spreading hot pressure radiate from her nose, Rachel didn't have a chance to register what had happened before a loud screamed "Jesus _Christ_!" echoed through the choir room, followed by a, "God dammit, that _hurts_. _Christ_."

Looking up through already swelling eyes, Rachel swore her heart stopped when she met the eyes of the last person she would have _ever_ expected to be her soulmate.

Because, hands clapped over her nose and eyes darkening with pain, fury, and dawning comprehension, Santana Lopez stared back.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been a while since I had seen the episode Born This Way when this was written and posted (and even longer now since it's been four years!), so forgive any bastardization of the dialogue that may appear due to my having paraphrased from memory. Thank you.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I'm sure Quinn wouldn't… Like you being here. You know. With me."

"Don't worry about Quinn, okay? I feel responsible. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't need to be here." Looking at Rachel helplessly, Finn's eyes slid over to where Santana sat by herself in the corner of the room, arms crossed with an infuriated glower on her face. He turned back to Rachel, "And I really don't feel comfortable leaving you with Santana. What _is_ she doing here, anyway?"

Santana looked up when Finn spoke about her, narrowing her eyes at him. But before she could answer, Rachel answered for her, "It's okay, Finn. Santana's here because I asked her to come."

Finn stared at Santana, then switched to Rachel. "You did?" he asked.

"Yes." _No_. Without a word, Santana had stalked after Finn and Rachel to Finn's car, glaring at the back of Rachel's head the whole drive to the doctor. And now Rachel didn't know if she wanted to never look away from Santana ever again or never look at Santana ever again. The two opposing forces weren't helping the headache and all around pain she was suffering from. Seeing the lines on Santana's forehead, she knew Santana was feeling it too.

Barbra, this was really screwed up.

Thankfully, Santana didn't seem inclined to refute Rachel's excuse, and Rachel wondered if she appreciated it. All she could feel from the other girl was an insane amount of anger that was making it really hard to find a _nice_ way of getting Finn to leave. Even pulling out the painful ace card of Quinn and not succeeding, it was getting harder to remember all the little tricks she'd come up with to not getting swept up in the other person's – _Santana's_ – emotions. Hoping Santana could feel her frustration, Rachel almost felt mean spirited.

Finn hardly seemed mollified. "Rachel," he started in the rising tone he always got when he was convinced he knew better than someone else, "She pretended to get hurt when you did in some… _Crazy_ need to gain attention or something! Why would you want her around you?"

When a growl rumbled in Santana's chest, Rachel's control slipped dangerously low. "Finn Hudson!" she shrilled, shutting her eyes against the pain before flying them open again to glare at him, "I would appreciate you leaving. _Now_."

"I'm not leaving you here alone with Santana!"

"Finnessa. _Shut. It_. She asked me here – she told you to leave. Even _you_ should be able to understand what that means." And finally Santana snapped. The familiar rushing sensation of fury washing through Rachel's body went up to a crashing roar.

Finn stood up to meet Santana defiantly. "No," he clenched his jaw, looking between her and Rachel again, "I may not know what's going on, but it's obvious something is."

"Oh, you don't know what's going on. That's a fuckin' _surprise_ ," Santana scoffed, her voice getting more and more derisive.

"Santana!" Rachel hopped down from her chair to get in between the two of them, "You don't have to insult him!" As Finn shifted uneasily behind her, she watched Santana draw herself up straight.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do. I keep it real."

"Real _slutty_!" As soon as those words left Rachel's mouth, her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Instantly, the spike of anger throbbing inside of her doubled, along with unexpected hurt – this was far beyond strange now.

Santana's eyes burned into Rachel. "Oh, _naw_ , Polly Pocket, you did _not_ just say what I think you did, right? Because if you _did_ , I'd have to _ends_ you."

"Okay, not good!" Wrapping his hands around Rachel's shoulders, Finn tugged her back. Ignoring Santana, he maneuvered around so neither girl could see each other. Staring up at him angrily, Rachel crossed her arms.

Finn gave her a pointed look. "You _really_ want to tell me you want me to leave you _alone_ with her?"

" _Yes_!" Rachel responded emphatically, shaking her head at him.

Finn dropped his hands from her shoulders. " _Why_?"

"That's none of your business, Finnocence!" Santana cut in, "Me and Berry gots to have w _ords_."

Rachel almost stepped around Finn to go ' _Really_?' at her, but somehow held back. "Yes," she rolled her eyes, "While not as violent as Santana made that sound, we _do_ have things we want to talk about."

Finn stared down at her. "And you don't want me around?" he asked, looking a little hurt.

"Ay dios _mio_ ," Santana muttered, but Rachel quickly spoke over her, "Yes. Finn. I'm sorry, but this is private." Seriously, this was getting ridiculous.

"Between you and _Santana_?"

"Fuck, Frankenteen!" Santana snapped, "Just gets the hells _out_!"

When he looked down at Rachel as if he expected her support, Rachel barely held back one of her level ten glares. Obviously reading _something_ in her expression, her ex-boyfriend gave her an unhappy, disappointed look, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and stalked over to the door. "Just don't expect any sympathy from me when she hurts you, Rachel!" he left as a parting shot.

"Oh, how knight in shining _armor_!" Santana taunted as he slammed the door shut behind him. Then, she all but triumphantly claimed the chair Finn had been sitting in.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel tried to fight back the tears and depression his absence caused. Not only was it painful to her heart, but her nose and eyes were telling her it wouldn't be worth it. Even though it had been about four months they had been broken up for, she still wasn't able to let him go.

"Oh, _fuck_. God _dammit_ , Man Hands! He loves Tubbers! Stop. The fuck. _Pining_ for him! I'm _done_ feeling this!"

And there was anger pushing her depression away. Rachel didn't know if she wanted to thank Santana or punch her. "You know," she offered snidely, giving the other girl a baleful glare as she made her way back to her original seat, "I could say the same thing about how you've been ' _pining'_ over _Brittany_. I'm sure that hasn't helped _either_ of us."

"You know nothing about that," Santana met her glare with one of her own, "And I'm sure as hell not going to tell you anything about it."

Her subdued response almost stunned Rachel. "I… Okay," she cleared her throat, closing her eyes against Santana's intense gaze. She smoothed her shirt down, "Let's just… Ignore each other while I pray for my nose to be _not_ broken."

"Nope, it's broken." The doctor suddenly sweeping in while holding what was probably an x-ray of her nose, he barely spared the two girls a glance before sliding the x-ray into the light box and switching on the light. "Fortunately it's a clean break, so no surgery is needed. However." He turned to Rachel, smiling, "Have you ever thought about getting that deviated septum fixed? You're at the perfect age to get a nose job."

Rachel blinked. "What…? But…? No." She gingerly shook her head, "My voice is my life, and if I get a nose job, it could affect my singing – "

The doctor waved it off. "Eh, that's just a myth. Actually," he tapped the x-ray, "You would get more air which might actually _help_ your voice." Then, changing tactics, he looked past Rachel to where Santana sat in the chair Finn had been occupying. "You her girlfriend?" he asked.

"What?" Rachel and Santana turned to stare at each other. Then, her eyebrows slamming down, Santana turned burning dark eyes onto the doctor, sneering at him, "What the hell? No. _No_. Jesus, who the hell do you think you are, asking that shit? Is that even _allowed_? My _father_ , who's a r _eal_ doctor _–_ not some schnoz _hack_ – would _never_ let this shit fly! I should s _ue_ you for defamation of character, implying that me and that _thing_ are – "

" _Santana_!" Rachel snapped, "He gets it. We're not dating."

Staring at them with his eyebrow raised, the doctor shook his head and went back to his point, "Well, what's your girlfriend's nose look like, then?"

Santana's mouth dropped open, and she surged up, Rachel just barely able to catch her arms. Even if she felt the same fury Santana did, as well as the pounding in her nose seemed to have doubled, Rachel was still _not_ going to let the other girl seriously pound him.

" _I am_ _not gay_!" Santana screeched, lapsing into loud, spitfire Spanish. Only able to hold onto her _due_ to their escalating anger, Rachel quickly started dragging her out of the doctor's office. As they passed him on their way, Rachel glared at him, and, managing to speak over Santana's rant, left him with, "Though I am _appalled_ at your lack of professionalism, I shall probably be in contact with you at another time to continue this discussion."

" _What_!" Santana yelled, turning her ire onto Rachel, "Oh _hell_ no, you are _not_ getting fucking surgery!"

"It's not your decision," Rachel answered tightly, letting Santana go as soon as they got through the lobby. Striding determinedly down the hall, she slapped the elevator button as hard as she could… Then immediately regretted it.

" _Dammit_!" Santana roared, " _Stop hurting yourself_!"

"Myself? _Myself_?" Rachel put her hands on her hips, not giving an inch as Santana tried to intimidate her by crowding into her space, "May I remind you, _Santana Lopez_ , that _you_ were the one who broke your collarbone when I was twelve? And that I had to get _used_ to strained muscles and bruises from God knows what when I entered middle school?"

The elevator doors opened, and they stalked inside. Slamming the bottom of her fist into the ground floor button, Santana retorted with, "Fuck that, Berry! You're the one who almost _crippled_ me in the fourth grade! What the hell did you do – fall down the fucking _stairs_?"

Rachel raised her hand to her face. Tears pricking as she could feel just how much her nose had already swollen, she turned away from Santana and stared stonily at the elevator doors. "No."

"Then what? Fell off your high chair?"

" _No_."

"Took a dive off the stage?"

" ** _No_**."

"Then out of a tree going after a fucking kitten – "

" ** _I did not fall off anything_**!" Rachel shouted, the words echoing in the small space as she whirled around. Glaring at Santana, she poured all of their combined anger back at her. She needed her punching bag. _Now_.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged their destination, and Rachel power walked as fast as she could away. This was all w _rong_. Santana couldn't be her soulmate. This was a cosmic joke. Who thought tying the two of them together would be a good idea? They were going to end up _killing_ each other!


	3. Chapter 2

As Rachel looked over the parking lot, fingers massaging the side of her forehead where the majority of her headache pounded – if she ignored her nose, that is – she couldn't help tensing and clenching her jaw when Santana walked up behind her. "I _know_ ," she preempted.

"Of course you do, Man Hands," Santana ground out angrily, " _Fuck_! Why the hell haven't you taken any pain medication yet? I'm in _pain_ , dammit!"

Barely stopping the angry retort on the tip of her tongue, Rachel pulled out her phone instead. Ignoring the glare searing into the side of her head, she dialed her father's office.

"Good afternoon. The law offices of McKnight and Hayes; how may I help you?"

"Maureen?"

Instantly the professional detached tones of the secretary changed into a warm, familiar smile. "Rachel! Hi, dear. It's been a while, hasn't it? How are you doing?"

"Yes, it has, hasn't it? I'm sorry about that. I've just been busy with school and extracurricular classes. And, well…" Rachel paused, then settled on, "I'm… Passable. Anyway, I'll try to drop in sometime this week. I still owe you and Toby some of my sugar cookies, don't I?"

"Oh, Toby will love those, thank you! I swear he must have the _hugest_ crush on you." Maureen giggled. "Oh, and speaking of bringing me food, are you planning on coming to our annual Memorial Day barbecue?"

"Of course." Rachel allowed herself a small smile, "I wouldn't miss it."

"Of course you wouldn't," Maureen chortled. She lowered her voice, making it suggestive and probing, "And are you going to have a nice young man with you this year?"

Rachel's stomach flipped, and old tears came back with a vengeance. "I… No," she whispered softly, closing her eyes when she heard Santana shifting behind her. Unfortunately, a second later, Rachel felt her depressed longing increase; it was obvious Santana had started thinking about Brittany, spurred by her own thoughts.

She shook her head, unwilling to turn and acknowledge the other girl. This back and forth was, she realized, potentially quite dangerous. Especially since it seemed that after identifying each other, their connection had grown stronger – if that was even possible.

Case in point, her nose had started to ache even more due to the tears that started falling down her cheeks. Turning around, watery brown eyes met hers. Though as soon as Santana realized that Rachel was looking at her, shame, embarrassment, and anger swelled up, all in that order.

Well, Rachel glared back at her, at least Santana was good for _something_.

Maureen paused, then, revealing that she had realized she said something unfortunate, cleared her throat, "Well, that's okay, dear. We'll still be able to have fun."

"I'm sure." Grinding it out, Rachel clenched her teeth. Anger, annoyance, frustration, disbelief… If she and Santana didn't sort something out _soon_ , one would murder the other, or they'd both keel over from an aneurysm. Taking deep breaths to calm herself down a _little_ , she hastened the conversation along, "Anyway, I'm sorry for being so abrupt, but is Daddy in?"

Santana snorted, muttering a mocking ' _Daddy_ ', and it took everything in Rachel not to allow the still boiling helplessness and resentment flowing between them make her retaliate.

"Hmm… Let me check…" A couple of clacking computer keys, and Maureen continued, "Yes! You're in luck. He's not in a meeting. Would you like me to patch you through?"

"Yes please. …Thank you, Maureen."

"No worries, dear. I look forward to seeing you. Have a good day."

"You too." Leaning back on her heels, Rachel glanced over to see what Santana was doing, unsurprised to see that she was furiously typing away on her phone. She was probably 'sexting'. Honestly, Rachel didn't want to know.

A soft click alerted her that the line had been transferred, and she turned her attention back to her phone.

"LeRoy Berry, speaking."

"Hi Daddy."

"Baby girl!" Her father sounded pleased, if curious, "I thought you were in glee right now. Everything okay?"

Done typing, Santana was once again staring holes into Rachel.

Rachel sighed in annoyance, narrowing her eyes at the girl. Not even bothering to lower her phone or cover it, she snapped out, "Would you _not_ stare at me as if I am some… _Exhibit_ for you to throw peanuts at? Do you see me staring at you? _Do you_?"

"Oh, don't play 'innocent', J.A.P." Santana drew out the acronym for Jewish American Princess by enunciating each letter, "You haven't been able to take your eyes _off_ of me!"

"…Rachel?"

"Well, would you _blame_ me if I was? Which I wasn' – _ahh_!" Pain spiked through Rachel's skull, caused by the fervency of her dramatic ire, and she flinched, flinching again when harpy-like fingers dug into her arm.

"Dammit, Berry, I don't fucking care if you're trying to get us a ride, because you and I are going to march right fucking back into that office and _get you some goddamn painkillers_! And if they have the kind that'll knock you out completely, so much the better!" And unceremoniously, Santana started dragging Rachel back towards the doctor's office.

"Rachel?"

For once, Rachel agreed with Santana. Still, "I can walk," she yanked her arm away.

"Then _walk_."

"I believe I _am_."

" _Rachel!_ "

" _What_ , Daddy?" As soon as that left her mouth, Rachel wished she could take that back. No matter if her fathers knew about her emotional changes, she had never liked taking it out on them. Stopping right outside of the medical building's front doors, she swallowed, once again rubbing the side of her head, "I'm sorry. I just – can you please come pick me up?"

There was silence, and she knew that was because he was checking the time. "…Sure, I can do that. I'm assuming we'll be talking later?"

Rachel closed her eyes. "Yes. And come to the Lima medical center. That's where I am."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I'll explain everything when I see you, okay, Daddy?" Somehow, for some reason, Rachel's body was relaxing, and the pounding anger was lessening; the loss was making her feel suddenly eighty pounds lighter. Finishing up with her conversation, she looked over to see Santana in the middle of a phone conversation of her own.

"Yes, Britt. I promise to go with you and Tron for ice cream tomorrow. I'm sorry I missed it today, but – Yes. Sure. Look, she has a big nose, so it must have cushioned the blow. Thankfully. No, it does hurt, but I'm gonna force her to medicate." Santana paused, laughing at something Brittany must have said, "Yes, hopefully it's like you and your cough syrup."

Rolling her eyes but smiling a bit, Rachel shook her head and slipped past her. Thank you, Brittany, she thought towards the blonde, even if you _do w_ ant to see me stoned out of my mind.

Still, she could feel her heart pound at the feeling of how hopelessly in love Santana was. While one part of her felt bad for the other girl, knowing the type of situation – in a way – that she was in, the other part of her actually felt _relieved_. It was very possible her overwhelming depression over Finn was very much influenced by Brittany. And, knowing that, maybe she could reclaim some of her mental strength.

Exiting the elevator in which she had been yelling at Santana not even ten minutes ago, Rachel sighed and squared her shoulders. The last time she had been in the lobby of the doctor, she'd been pushing a very angry, very physically menacing girl in front of her. Hopefully the receptionist and, though it bothered her about how _unprofessional_ he had been, the doctor wouldn't protest her appearance again. Santana had been correct; pain medication would be very welcome. Her nose throbbed. Very, _very_ welcome.

As she passed through the glass door, the pretty young receptionist who had raised her eyebrows when Rachel had initially arrived with both Finn and Santana, stared at her blankly before blinking and grinning. "Hold on a second," she spoke before Rachel could, "I think Dr. Feinstein's actually not with a patient." Sticking her head through the window that connected her desk with the actual examination section of the office, she exchanged quiet words with someone, then pulled back. She smiled. "He should be out soon."

Rachel nodded, smiling shyly at her. "Thank you," she offered, "Then I won't bother sitting down and flipping through last year's Cosmo."

"Pshaw, _so_ last season."

Rachel was about to answer when the tip of her right thumb suddenly felt like a flame rolled over it, followed by a spike of exasperated anger. Rubbing it with her forefinger, she furrowed her brow. What could Santana be up to? As the pain subsided, leaving a faint tingling feeling, Rachel sighed and shrugged mentally. "You're right," she looked back up, clasping her hands behind her back, "But perhaps the articles are timeless?"

The receptionist, who Rachel finally noticed a name placard proclaiming 'Tanya Scarrow', smirked good naturedly. "What articles? They're more like long, wordy advertisements, aren't they?"

"Exactly!" Rachel exclaimed happily, "That is why I tend to stay away from periodicals like Cosmo, anyway. I find barely any redeeming value in them at all." She walked forward to come closer to the reception desk.

Tanya leaned in conspiratorially, away from her computer, "I bet that girl you were with doesn't think so." Her smile widened, and Rachel realized she was probably just out of high school or in her first years of college, "She looks like she tries hard to be fashionable without looking like she's trying hard."

"Santana?" Blushing a little as memories of earlier came back, as well as a renewed reminder of her broken nose, Rachel was fortunately saved from answering when the doctor came in. "Ah, Miss Berry," he raised an eyebrow, "Back so soon? Ready to talk about what I brought up earlier?"

Turning away from Tanya, Rachel self consciously crossed her arms across her chest. "No," she started, cursing that her voice came out wavering, "Not at this point. I was more hoping that you could prescribe me some prescription strength painkillers? I know my nose does not require surgery, but that does not mean the pain is…" Her eyes flicked over to Tanya for some reason, and she licked her lips, lowering her shoulders and her voice, "Negligible."

Studying her, the doctor finally went, "Hmm," and pulled up his clipboard. "How about this," he started scribbling on a piece of paper, "I will give you this prescription if you agree to look over these…" He walked over to the wall beside the door, pulling out some pamphlets and handing them to her, along with the prescription, "And we'll discuss it when you come back in a week during your check-up." He smiled widely. "How does that sound?"

Rachel looked down at the pamphlets, starting to feel familiar shame and embarrassment that had ruled most of her life. Reading titles like _Rhinoplasty and You: A Good Match?_ and _Why Get a Nose Job: Do I Really Need It?_ , she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. "Sure," she coughed, forcing herself to look up and smile at him, "I'll… Do that. Thank, uhm, thank you."

Waiting until she was back outside the lobby and safely in the elevator to shove the pamphlets and prescription into the pocket of her skirt, barely responding to Tanya's quiet, "Have a good day," and slight smile, Rachel leaned back against the wall. Putting off pressing the button for the bottom floor, she bit her lip. "But… Barbra," she whispered, "She did it without…"

It wasn't like she had never thought of getting a nose job before, as she most certainly had. Though she knew he was probably more after her money, the doctor's continued insistence that she get one still insulted her. Especially since _he_ had no problem keeping his _own_ nose!

But… What if she _did_ get one? Who would she model her new nose off of? Quinn Fabray was her automatic first thought, as it was most likely one of the reasons Finn kept on… Kept on going back to her.

Okay, Quinn was a feasible option. Who else?

Not bothered in the least that she was basing off her options on people she knew, Rachel invariably turned to Santana. She certainly had a striking nose, but how would it look on _Rachel's_ face?

Giggling, then sighing at the mental image, Rachel finally reached over and told the elevator to do its job.

She had an idea why Santana would so strongly object to her surgery, because with their revelation, there was no doubt the other girl would suffer through her recovery along with her. Rachel, annoyingly, couldn't blame her.

Wait. Standing up straight right as the elevator doors opened, Rachel looked down at her chest. Recuperation and surgery. What…?

Not seeing Santana anywhere as she slowly walked out into the lobby, neither inside nor out the glass entranceway, Rachel could only put her hand back up to her face, rubbing her forehead. If…

If Santana had gotten a 'summer surgery' last summer… How come Rachel hadn't felt it?


	4. Chapter 3

Santana was sitting on the bike rack when Rachel exited the medical building again. Spotting her, the girl jumped down, striding up to her purposefully. "Medication?" she asked, straight to the point.

"Yes, I have a prescription," Rachel avoided Santana's eyes.

"Give it."

"What?" Rachel blinked, finally meeting Santana's dark gaze.

Santana held out her hand, eyebrows low over her eyes. "Give me your prescription, Berry. After observing Judy Fabray for a couple of years, I _know_ my meds."

Right. Sighing and deciding it wouldn't be worth it to fight, Rachel fished into her pocket. Closing her hand around the collection of papers, she pulled them out. Flipping everything to get at the prescription she had folded into the two pamphlets, a growl distracted her, and Santana's hand suddenly closed around hers, ripping it all away. "Hey! Those are mine!" Rachel snapped, making a lunge.

Raising her hand and turning so her back was to Rachel, Santana's shoulders got tenser and tenser. "What the _hell_ , Berry!" she barked, "I already _told_ you! There is no way in _hell_ you are getting a fucking nose job!"

"And I told you it's not your decision!"

"It sure as hell is!"

"You are being ridiculous and selfish, Santana!"

" _Ridiculous. Selfish._ " Obnoxiously adopting a nasal tone to mimic Rachel's voice, Santana threw back her head. "Me? _You're_ the one who caused all this!" She gestured back and forth between them with quick, angry flicks of her wrist, "Now turn it off, dammit!"

Rachel's mouth dropped open. " _Excuse me_?" she drew herself up straight, "I am insulted and incredulous that you would think that _I_ would… Would _orchestrate_ something as this!"

"Then _who the fuck did it_?" Santana snarled, shaking her head. Raising the hand that held Rachel's prescription, she pointed a shaking finger at Rachel. "Turn it off. Turn it off _now_."

Rachel's pulse started pounding in her forehead. "I _can't_!" she growled out, "Now give me my prescription so I can get rid of this _pain_!" Tears gathered in her eyes, and she stomped her foot as hard as she could get away with.

"No." With great difficulty, Santana took her attention away from Rachel and stalked over to the ashtray trash can. Throwing the pamphlets in, she sucked in a deep breath, the lines of her back and shoulders tight. Turning back around, her face was pinched but she was obviously trying to rein in some of her anger; Rachel could feel their combined frustration rising, "I'm going to hang onto this until you get it filled." At Rachel's coming protest, she held up one finger. "Deal with it, RuPaul. Until I can stuff these down your throat, I am going to watch you to make sure you don't do any _more_ damage to yourself."

In some twisted way, Rachel understood. Didn't mean she was happy with it, but she wasn't surprised. It was definitely a Santana Lopez trait to want to control everything. To be truthful, she'd often thought of how similar she and the other girl were in that regard (though never daring to say anything for fear of a quick and scathing rebuke).

Giving Santana a bitter smile, she decided there was no point continuing the conversation – she was _exhausted_. So, fighting the swirling anger and ignoring Santana, she walked over to the bike rack, sitting down. Keeping her eyes down, afraid to shut them in case that would focus the splitting pain in her head, she tried to calm herself. Maybe if she didn't pay attention to Santana long enough, she'd be able to figure this whole thing out.

Why had Santana thought _she_ was responsible? And _how_ would she have been responsible?

Tears threatened her eyes again; there was no way Santana was her soulmate. With each second passing ever since Finn had broken her nose, years of sweeping romantic fantasies were going up in flames.

She felt absolutely cheated.

When a car drove up, Rachel lifted her head tiredly. Seeing her father, she felt equal parts relief and equal parts trepidation. She was happy to see him, but she wasn't looking forward to telling him that she'd found who she was connected to, due to who that person _was_. Not to mention there was the 'little issue' of her broken nose.

Walking out of his car and giving Santana a curious expression as he passed her, LeRoy Berry's eyes widened as he laid eyes on his daughter. "Rachel!" he exclaimed, jogging the last few steps up to her, "What… What happened? Are you okay?"

Trying to give him a reassuring smile, Rachel dropped down and squeezed his arm before accepting his hug. "I'm fine, Daddy. There was just an accident while we were doing our dancing boot camp."

"Accident?" Frowning, her father gently cupped her cheek and started moving her head up and down to get a better look, "Do you need surgery?"

Rachel pulled her chin back and patted his arm. "No, thankfully." She was _not_ going to mention _anything_ about the plastic surgery. "Just time and taking care." And pain medication. Lots and lots of pain medication.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Santana cleared her throat obnoxiously, Rachel feeling her spike of impatience. "This is touching and all," she gave them both a fake smile, "But _hello_? I have your prescription. Let's _go_."

Rachel closed her eyes. Breathing in deeply, she nodded stiltedly. "Fine. Right. Yes." She turned to her father, who was looking between them with his brows furrowed, wearily studying Santana and giving Rachel a 'want to explain things _now_?' expression.

She sighed. She was _not_ looking forward to this. "Daddy, this is Santana Lopez." Gripping the sleeve of his jacket, she used that to slightly tug him over, "Santana, LeRoy Berry."

"Charmed." Offering LeRoy a very fast, very rigid nod, and ignoring his outstretched hand, Santana narrowed her eyes. "Berry, due to these… Certain _circumstances_ …"

It was apparent what Santana was trying to do. "He knows!" Rachel snapped out, feeding off the other girl's anger. "While he does not know about _you_ , obviously – until perhaps _now_ – you don't have to be _so_ …" At the last second, she managed to hold back what she had been going to say, turning stiffly to her father, "Daddy, Santana and I would appreciate leaving for the pharmacy. I _promise_ that I will explain once we are underway."

Looking back and forth from Santana and Rachel, the crease between LeRoy's eyebrows deepened, "I think I'm beginning to understand. C'mon, let's go."

* * *

True to her word, Santana watched Rachel like a hawk. Almost breathing down her neck at the pharmacy, only moving away when the pharmacist started giving her concerned looks, Santana practically shoved an open water bottle at Rachel the _second_ her fingers touched the plastic of the medicine bottle.

Growling but almost thankful, Rachel unscrewed the cap, shook one into her palm, and swallowed the (hopefully) miracle drug. Washing it down with water, she almost sagged at the quick second of overwhelming relief that flowed from Santana. "Happy now?" she asked quietly, slipping the pills into her pocket and taking another sip.

Santana's eyes narrowed, but she grudgingly nodded. Accepting the bottle of water when Rachel offered it, Santana walked over to the chairs set up for people who chose to wait for their medication in-store and dropped down into one. Trailing after her, not wanting to fully relinquish her drink (she'd take the empty bottle up to the register, she promised herself, as Santana had probably just swiped it because she could), Rachel took a seat as well, leaving a chair between them. Knowing her father was somewhere in the store, doing some first aid shopping, she allowed herself to relax a little.

Her nose hurt. Her eyes hurt. Her head hurt. She'd been avoiding looking into any mirrors, but realizing she was able to see more of her nose when she looked down than before, she had a pretty good idea how bad she looked. It wasn't fair that Santana felt what she felt without showing.

Well… That was probably one of the reasons they had never identified each other before.

Rachel sighed. Out of everyone… Santana Lopez?

She studied Santana out of the corner of her eye. The girl was staring sightlessly straight ahead, one hand holding onto her cell phone, the other wrapped around her upper arm in a half crossed arm position. She looked severe and annoyed, but thankfully the levels of aggravation between them had dropped dramatically.

Feeling her cell phone vibrate, she slipped it from her skirt pocket. Seeing it was a text from Kurt, a smile tugged at her lips.

_Oh my Barbra – I just heard! Is it broken? Can you still sing? Do I have to maim my brother?_

How would Kurt maim Finn? Rachel quirked a smile when the image of her best friend throwing scalding hot milk into Finn's face came to her. It was mean, sure, and Kurt would never do it (and Rachel would never ask him to), but it was still humorous.

_I'm as fine as to be expected. Thank you, Kurt. No maiming needed, though I must admit I found that strangely sweet. But seriously, I'm fine. Only a little fracture._

Picking up the water bottle from where Santana had set it down on the seat between them, Rachel sighed again while she was waiting for a response. Only a little fracture. Only a little fracture that _completely brought to life all her old fears_.

"Berry, if you start crying, I will take my razor blades and _cut_ _you_."

Blinking, Rachel snapped her gaze up to meet Santana's. Finding her staring at her, Rachel sighed and pasted a fake smile on her face. Pointedly looking away from her, she took a sip of water, easily modulating her voice into an uninterested tone, "It hurts too much to cry. So _you_ don't start."

Santana scoffed. "I can cry if I damn well want to. Which I _don't_."

"You just love being contrary, don't you?"

Santana smirked. "No other way I'd rather be."

Rachel swished the water in her mouth, then swallowed noisily. "At least you're consistent, I guess…"

"Damn right."

For some reason, that made Rachel giggle.

Santana's eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. "Whoah there, Berry. What the hell?"

Thankfully, Kurt's responding text saved her from answering, as she didn't know exactly where that giggle had come from either; at least her pain seemed to be a little less.

She set down the water bottle to read.

_Oh please, tell me I can blame him so I have an excuse to come interrupt glee. I miss you guys!_

"And we miss you too…" Rachel breathed, finding herself answering verbally. Feeling Santana's attention on her, she sighed. "Kurt," she offered shortly, flicking her eyes up to meet Santana's again, "He wants to come back to glee. I _swear_ – Karofsky should _not_ have been allowed back to school!"

Strangely, Rachel's anger seemed to perk Santana up. "Kurt…" Santana whispered, her eyes unfocusing as she stared down at her phone, "Do I have…?" Shaking her head, a highly determined expression settled onto Santana's face, and she started furiously thumbing through her phone.

Feeling herself start to get caught up in the other girl's enthusiasm and almost desperation, Rachel stared at her. "Santana?" she ventured.

Santana ignored her. "Score!" she smirked broadly, hot satisfaction exploding from Rachel's chest to fill the rest of her body. Jumping up and shooting Rachel a pointed look, Santana raised a finger, "You stay here until I get back. No fucking way your dad's gonna leave me here, especially since it's because of _you_ Finn has my shit. So if he comes back, stall."

"Hey – wait – Santana!"

But Santana was already on the phone, her voice carrying back as she walked away, "Karofsky? It's Santana. Guess what? You're taking me out tomorrow."

Staring at Santana's retreating back with her mouth dropped open, Rachel couldn't believe what she had just heard. Santana was… _Asking Karofsky out_?


	5. Chapter 4

When her father walked up, two full plastic bags in his hands, Rachel was not so quietly singing along to the muzak being pumped out of the store speakers. Buoyed by a strong sense of satisfaction coming from Santana and a slow but noticeable lessening of pressure and pain in her nose, she smiled up at him, patting the chair next to her.

Settling into the seat and arranging the bags by his feet, LeRoy took her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my nose has swollen to the size and color of an eggplant," she sighed.

LeRoy nodded. A couple of seconds passed, and then he let out a breath of air. "And Santana…?"

Rachel closed her eyes. "Like her nose has swollen to the size and color of an eggplant."

"Thought so." Sliding his arm over her shoulders, he started rubbing her arm comfortingly, "And I take it it's not so happy news."

Rachel had always felt safe in her father's arms, and she'd taken refuge in them many times while dealing with some intense phantom pain or crying over her worry that she'd never find her 'soulmate'. But right now, she felt like she had never needed her father's hug more.

"You met her," she offered blandly.

"Well, no…" her father disagreed mildly, "I've met her under high duress."

That made a spark of anger flash through her. "That's how she always is," she pushed herself back, frowning at him.

LeRoy held up his hands. "Easy, hun. I'm not arguing. I can't imagine how you're feeling – goodness knows I can't – but I can guess that you're also having a problem with _how_ you found out. That didn't help, did it?"

Rachel averted her gaze. "No, it didn't," she admitted reluctantly, curling her hands into fists on her lap. "I guess it's the right thing to do to warn you that I'm not going to be very _happy_ for the foreseeable future."

LeRoy reached over to cover one of her hands again. "I think that's understandable."

Nodding silently, Rachel relaxed again. Her nose and head were still unhappy, but it was now more of a lingering throb, and she really didn't feel like talking.

She needed time. Time to make everything slow down so she could calm down and start deconstructing everything she had not only learned in the past few hours, but look at her memories in a whole new light. Now that she'd learned Santana was her… She was so used to referring to the person connected to her as her 'soulmate' that she didn't know what else to call Santana. Because, no. Santana and she may be connected for some reason, but they… They really _couldn't_ be soulmates.

Or maybe Rachel would go to sleep. Though she was loathe taking naps unless she was sick, the medication she'd taken _did_ have the warning of causing drowsiness, and she _was_ tired. Mentally, emotionally, physically. Without the initial adrenaline boosting her up…

Her father shifting and the clacking of high heels alerted Rachel that Santana had come back. "You're still here…?" she asked, straightening and blinking bleary eyes up at the much calmer looking Santana.

"Don't look so happy." Sitting into the open chair next to Rachel, Santana sighed. "What's going to happen now?" she grunted, "It's not like I can shadow you twenty four hours a day, every day."

"Yeah, don't do that," Rachel yawned, "Not only would that be a breach of privacy, but we'd surely end up killing each other."

One side of Santana's lips quirked up. "True that." Then, throwing her head back, she looked up at the ceiling. "Ohh my _god_ …" she muttered, dragging her hands over her face; finishing her thought, her voice came out muffled, "This is fucked. _Up_."

Feeling the frustration coiling up through her body again, Rachel picked up the abandoned water bottle. "Though I refuse to copy your crude and uncouth language," she gave Santana a reprimanding look, "I echo your sentiment."

"' _Crude_ '. ' _Uncouth_ '." Santana's upper lip curled, and she sat back up, shifting to face Rachel directly as sudden anger spiked up. She leaned forward. "Don't you _ever_ get tired of acting like you're better than everyone else?"

" _Better than_ – " Rachel glared at Santana, sitting up straight to square off with her. "I don't _see_ , Santana," she started through gritted teeth, "How taking pride in my vocabulary makes me a _snobbish bitch_!"

Santana raised her hands, shrugging in a way calculated to be _extremely_ insulting, "Your words, not mine."

" _You've called me that before_!" Rachel slammed her eyes shut. Growling, she strangled the water bottle instead of the girl opposite her. Santana was _taunting_ her! She knew that through their connection Rachel would be able to feel what she was feeling, and what Rachel was feeling was hot and obnoxious dark satisfaction. "Why are you _fighting_ with me?" she snapped her eyes open, meeting Santana's flaming gaze head on, "It's _ridiculous_! _What_ do you get _out_ of it?"

Santana opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Rachel's father stood up. "Okay, _okay_ ," he interrupted, holding up a finger to silence Santana, "I'm aware I know nothing about how it feels to have this push and pull between you two, but this is not the place. Or time. And it's obvious you two need to separate so you can calm down."

" _Daddy_ – " Rachel started, but LeRoy shook his head, taking her hand and squeezing it. "No, honey, just please listen to me. From the fifteen minutes I've spent with the both of you, nothing's gotten achieved. You just keep on getting angrier and angrier. _Again_ , I'm aware that's probably not completely your guys' fault, but it's not constructive, okay? And, Rachel, honey, I think we need to get you home before you collapse."

Struggling to clamp down on her anger, knowing her father meant well, Rachel forced herself to look away from Santana. She needed to calm down. Be the strong one to get a handle on her – _their_ – emotions because goodness knows _Santana_ was being _useless_ _in controlling her anger_!

But again, not helping.

Taking big, deep breaths, Rachel concentrated on the slightly fuzzy-sleepy feeling that had been creeping up on her. Her father was correct. It would be a good idea to get everything sorted out so she could go home and rest.

Slowly but surely, the grip of Santana's anger waned. Due to the lack of Rachel verbally volleying anymore or their combined growing mental exhaustion, the tension eased enough to allow Rachel to nod and give her father a wan smile. And when her hand relaxed in his, her father squeezed it and let go.

Unsurprisingly, though somewhat mollified, Santana wasn't ready to back down completely. She turned her attention to Rachel's father instead. "Who are you to tell me how I feel?" she asked stubbornly.

LeRoy nodded off to the side, "Someone who's aware security is heading this way."

 _Security_?

" _Security_?" Santana jumped up, "This crappy pharmacy has _security_?"

* * *

Standing on the doorstep of Finn's house, Rachel swallowed and rapped on the door again. Her ex hadn't bothered to respond to her text or phone call, so she was hoping he was home. Of course, being at his home wasn't very good for her mood. It reminded her too much of their relationship, and she knew that anywhere she looked would remind her of a specific memory. They may not have had the healthiest of relationships, but Rachel _was_ still in love with him. He was her first love, and no matter how much it hurt, she couldn't stop pining over him, wishing they were together again.

It was times like these she prayed/dreaded her emotions weren't completely just hers.

Finally, the door opened. Expecting to see Finn, Rachel blinked up at his step-father instead.

"Rachel!" Burt stared down at her, a wide frown crossing his face, "Did someone attack you?"

That made Rachel smile. "No, Mr. Hummel," she shook her head gingerly, her nose still sore even with more of the medication in her system, "It was an accident."

"Oh." Burt studied her. "Well, the guy who did it get what he deserved?" Then, remembering himself, he stepped back and opened the door, "I'm sorry, c'mon in. You here for Finn or Kurt?"

Stepping forward, Rachel closed her eyes to beat back the depression that welled up from the familiar smell of the Hummel/Hudson household, an interesting mix of cooking and grease. Having rarely been over for Kurt, the smell was firmly associated with Finn.

A sharp flick to the back of her hand shook her out of her thoughts, and Rachel glared down at her hand. _Thank you, Santana_ , she thought ungraciously. However, suitably pushed back on track, she clasped her hands together and shrugged, giving Burt a faintly humorous smile, "Well, the 'guy who did it' was Finn, and I know for a fact he's kicking himself, so I don't think you need to worry about that. I'm… Actually here to see him? He has my and Santana's backpacks." She paused, "Oh, but is Kurt here? I wouldn't mind seeing him, either. We've both been so busy with our respective school and glee activities, you know."

Suddenly, a loud, "Oh dear lord! I am _certainly_ going to let Finn have it now!" bounced around the small living room, Kurt practically power walking over to her from the kitchen, "I'm not sorry to say this – you look _terrible_!"

Accepting his ginger hug and vaguely aware of Burt slipping away with an uncomfortable, muttered, "Well, I'm just gonna go check the flan…", Rachel smiled despite herself and shook her head. "Jee, thanks, Kurt. You know just what to say to cheer me up." She made a face at him, "I know it's horrible. I know I look horrible. But you don't have to be so _obvious_ about it!"

Kurt just pursed his lips, looking her up and down. "Well, I _am_ happy to say it's not so bad that we can't work with it. Leave it to me, and I'll make you look as good as new." He poked her shoulder and smiled, then grabbed her hands in his. "Oh, please please _please_ tell me what this thing is with Santana? _Everyone's_ talking about it, and you should have _seen_ Finn come storming in. He was practically foaming at the mouth!"

The blood drained from Rachel's face, something akin to fear starting to make her heart pound. Confusion arriving a second later, Rachel pasted a very large, very fake smile on her face. "What have you heard?" she asked as diplomatically as she could.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Well _that's_ an interesting reaction." His eyes started to sparkle with growing curiosity, "Miss Rachel Berry, is there something going on with you and Lady Satan?"

Rachel stared at him, then averted her gaze. Taking her hands back, she turned to study a photograph of a young Kurt and his dad on the wall, "I don't know what you're talking about." _Please_ , Kurt, drop it.

Kurt snorted. " _Please_. That just makes it that much more suspicious."

So Rachel switched tactics. "Is Finn still in?"

Before Kurt could answer, Finn came clomping up the stairs as if he had been waiting for her to say his name. Not surprised in the least to see Rachel, whose heart thudded when he came into view, he walked straight up to her and held out his hand.

Was he… _He wanted her hand_? A wide, hopeful smile erupting on her face, Rachel took a step forward, reaching her hand out. "Finn…" she started, painful aching love taking her breath away, "I – "

Cold metal dropped into her palm. Still looking churlish and annoyed, Finn frowned at her, "When you're done getting your bags, give these back to Kurt." Then, with one last defensive glare, Finn turned and disappeared back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Staring down at his set of car keys, Rachel felt her chin start to tremble, and pressure squeezed her head. She dropped her shoulders. "Of course," she whispered, ignoring Kurt's pitying look, "Why do I even hope? Quinn's perfect, and I…" She took a deep breath. "I need to get a nose job."


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) What's this??? An update after four years???
> 
> 2) Yes.
> 
> 3) During the course of writing this chapter (started four years ago and recently retrieved and rewritten and expanded), I ended up creating some changes that have, hopefully, set up a better foundation for the rest of the story. As an example, the ending of this chapter was nowhere in my initial idea, but I like what possibilities it opens up for me. I really, really do. And after four years, that's a great feeling to have about one of your fics. :}
> 
> 4) Years and years ago I asked someone to translate some lines I'd written into the Spanish you'll see in this fic, but since I never expected it to take so long to actually get the chapter out, I didn't bother making note of who that person was, figuring I'd have no problem remembering. Well, that was a mistake. I can't remember. If it was someone who reads this, can you please send me a review or PM so I can once again properly appreciate you and give you credit? Thank you!
> 
> 5) One last thing! When I started this fic, Rachel's dads weren't named nor shown aside from the picture of them in Rachel's locker. So the Berry Men here? Not the ones cast for third season on.
> 
> And with that all done, on with the show~

Clicking the key fob, Rachel curled her fingers back around the keys before turning and giving them to Kurt.

"I can't believe he didn't even take them out of the car," Kurt muttered in solidarity.

"Really?" Sounding vaguely scornful, Santana looked at him. "You really think Finn has the brain cells to do something _more_ than act like the petty, selfish infant he _should_ have grown out of more than a _decade_ ago?" Shaking her head, then throwing her hands out, with a growl at the dark emotions Rachel sent her in response to her words, she whirled around and kicked the tire of Finn's car, her frustration obviously turning into surging anger, " _Stop_ defending the – _fuck_!"

Pain instantly blossomed in Rachel's big toe and the one next to it, and she gasped, stumbling forward, having to catch herself with a hand on the car door. "Santana!" she screeched, "Are you a masochist or a sadist? _Both_?" It was like the other girl _needed_ anger to survive.

Bending down to squeeze her own toes through her boot, Santana glared at Rachel through a wave of dark hair. " _You're_ the masochist," she hissed, " _Stop provoking me_!"

Taking a step back, Kurt stared at them. "…I really don't know what's going on, do I?"

Consternation flared in Rachel's body. " _No_!" she snapped, then groaned when the pain in her toe made her scrunch her face and inflame her nose, "Oh _my_ – did you _break_ _your freaking toe_?"

A loud slamming of a car door preceding heavy footsteps announced LeRoy's presence. Barely tossing an, "Are you okay?" at Rachel, he turned to glare heavily at Santana. "I saw that," he stated firmly.

Santana snorted. "Saw _what_?"

"Young lady!" Giving Santana a deep frown, LeRoy took an equally deep breath. "Okay. Yes. I know I can't understand how you must be feeling, but this is my _daughter_ and her _life_ you're… _Impacting_. Tell me. Do you – are you _happy_ about your…" His jaw flexed, " _This_?"

His words had barely finished when everything _burst_. Waves of unhealthy anger, pain, and frustration suddenly slammed straight into Rachel, buffeting her from all sides inside, and she almost doubled over. How had Santana been _hiding_ that?

"Am I happy?" Santana screeched. " _Am I_ _ **happy**_? Did you _honestly_ just ask me that? ¿En serio este idiota me acaba de preguntar si estoy feliz? ¿Qué cree? ¡Me duele todo y es por culpa de esta enana con problemas de crecimiento y nariz de tucán a la que le gusta **_meterse_ _conmigo_**!" ("Did this idiot _really_ just ask me if I'm happy? Fuck, what do _you_ think? I'm in pain and it's all because of this under-grown harpy-nosed midget who obviously enjoys **_fucking with me_**! _")_

Rachel would have felt the overwhelming anger and rage in the sharp, insulting rapid-fire Spanish even if she _hadn't_ felt it coming from inside herself at the same time. But because she _wasn't_ only hearing it, Rachel, exhausted, already a little off-kilter from the pain medication, and getting overpowered by a maelstrom of what wasn't just her _own_ pain, _finally_ exploded into frustrated, wrenching, _heartbroken_ tears.

" _Rachel_?" Kurt exclaimed worriedly, hands batting anxiously over her waist and sides, hovering as if he didn't know if she would want him to touch her to hug her or keep her up.

A large hand gently clapped on his shoulder, easing him aside, and LeRoy's familiar arms were wrapped once more around her. "I've got you," he murmured warmly into her ear, hugging her shaking body into his; when he tilted his head away, Rachel, even through her sobs, could make out him saying Santana's name. She was ashamed to realize that the uncharitable part of her almost hated him at that moment.

Everything was coming out. It hurt, Barbra it hurt, and through the almost waterfall of tears and saliva and radiating pain, both from her nose and the added complication of having less on an ability to breathe, it only made her more and more heartbroken. Over Finn. Over her loss of her… Her soulmate.

Everything.

Her foot hurt. Her head hurt. Her whole body ached. The nameless center inside of her that housed both her emotions and Santana's was almost too painful to handle, a newly freed negative ball violently decompressing. If she had been fully aware, she would have wondered how it had taken so long to burst. After all, ever since she'd found out, it had taken practically everything out of her to hold on. But now, obviously, they'd tipped over.

She wanted to go home. Forget about her resolve earlier – it would be relief to sleep and let unconsciousness take the brunt of everything.

She clung to her father. She wanted to go home.

* * *

He took her home.

* * *

Waking up later that night, her mouth full of cotton and her head like a block of wood, Rachel whimpered when her hand immediately went to the pulsing pain of her nose. Awareness filtering back in, she sat up, resting for only a moment before reaching for her phone on the bedside table; blinking when the soft glow lit up the darkness in front of her eyes, she first checked the time – 10:43 PM – before turning to the glass of water and medicine bottle she'd initially bypassed. Once newly medicated, she sighed, wondered that Santana was asleep, and turned on her bedside lamp, settling in to start on her waiting collection of texts. For ease of mind, she started in chronological order.

_U alrite_

_Yes, Puck, thank you. Only a small fracture. Please don't feel the need to punish Finn for what happened. It was an accident._ An unfortunate, painful accident…

_I hope ur ok! Wat the hell was w/ santana?_

_I am, 'Cedes. Sleep and pain medication are surprisingly effective. But I'm fine. If you haven't heard by now, it is only a fracture._ There was no reason to address Santana at that time, even if it would mean more pressing curiosity later, and Rachel sighed, sending it off.

 _Sending you good thoughts! That looked painful_.

 _It was, Tina, but I'm alive and no damage done to my talent or voice. I was just lucky it was it really was only a glancing blow. Finn already feels bad enough as it is._ Or at least he did. Did he still? Newly crestfallen, Rachel turned to the next.

_Don't let Finn get away scot-free. Make him pay for the doctor's appointment, at least._

Smiling at Quinn's almost blood thirsty response to her… Boyfriend's accident, Rachel mused if she would have ever been so magnanimous if the situations were reversed. She also wondered if this meant they were finally becoming friends. _We will have to see how much my already prodigious insurance covers, but I'm sure my fathers will follow your suggestion, coming to it themselves anyway. Thank you for the support._

_Tht lked trrbl r u gng to ned smone t crry ur bks tmrw_

Already well versed in Brittany's… _Unique_ text practices from the year before when Brittany had gotten it in her head that she had to run _everything_ by Rachel before every performance or class, Rachel still almost pinched the bridge of her nose before she realized how much of a bad idea that would be. Actually, it was almost sweet. _As my legs and arms are fine, I must decline your generous offer, Brittany, thank you. I should be fine. That was sweet of you to offer, regardless._

Sam, Artie, and Mike's texts were assorted variations to those she'd already answered, so she sent them general responses back. While she was touched they'd bothered to check in on her, her energy and drive were waning. Finishing up and slipping out of bed to make her way to her ensuite bathroom, she managed to make it all the way down the stairs, marveling at how little her toes actually hurt now, after the initial burst of pain, before she realized there were more voices than just her fathers' sounding from the living room. Frowning, then automatically touching first her chest to see she was respectfully 'strapped' down, she tugged nervously at her skirt, happy that her parents hadn't tried to change her into pajamas after she'd passed out in her father's arms; sure her clothes were a little wrinkly, and her hair wasn't perfect, but it had to do. She didn't want to go upstairs again and miss out on what was being said, and by who. While she may not want to make her presence known right away, she wanted to be prepared if it happened. She crept closer.

"…very reassuring that you were already abreast of this situation, if not of _who_ , I'm sure, was on the… The other end."

That was her dad, Hiram.

"Yes. We couldn't dismiss the evidence when it would happen right before our eyes. Santí would be able to perfectly describe the pain and feeling of various breaks and injuries though x-rays and tests wouldn't show it. As doctors, we were, perhaps, a bit more able to test and rule out things, though I have to admit it wasn't the _easiest_ of verdicts to come to. We just… _Didn't_ know."

Was that… _Santana's mother_?

"Maribel's correct. As for the mood swings… Her older brother wasn't the most stable of teens and pre-teens, and had his own share of emotional outbursts, but there was something about Santana that was beyond the pale. Sudden. …Dramatic."

That _had_ to be Santana's father. What were they doing there?

Hiram and LeRoy let out soft, weak chuckles, LeRoy adding, "Both our daughters are very dramatic and deeply sensitive girls, aren't they?"

Various noises of agreement sounded, the room Rachel now had her ear angled as close to the opening as she could without being theoretically seen by the occupants of lapsing into a humming, loaded silence. The lack of Santana's presence thrumming inside of her was evidence Santana was still, most likely, sleeping, but if her _parents_ were _here_ , it surprised Rachel that the other girl wasn't taking advantage and out – drinking or 'sexing it up' or doing whatever it was ex-Cheerios with the reputation Santana had did.

As the quiet continued, she could feel her heart beating in her chest, as if letting her know it was there. Shifting, and placing a hand over it to try and see if acknowledging it would quiet it down, Rachel turned her attention back to her ears. Were the adults going to start saying anything else any time soon?

It was Mrs. Lopez who delivered. Drawing in a heavy breath, Santana's mother's voice was tentative, reluctant, what she was saying succeeding in both Rachel and her heart stilling again, "We're just… Concerned… That with this revelation…"

Santana's still-unnamed father cleared his throat, "How the girls will…"

LeRoy sighed, and Rachel could imagine him and her dad exchanging glances, "Take it?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"I know. And we agree." Suddenly, Rachel's daddy sounded old, older than she'd ever heard it before. "You didn't see them this afternoon… It was… What has Santana told you?"

"If anything?" Hiram interjected.

There was a pause, and Rachel's mind filled in a look between Mr. and Mrs. Lopez like the one her fathers had shared.

"She was… She was pretty inconsolable," Maribel admitted, her voice strained, "I couldn't really get much out of her until… Well, until, I'm assuming, Rachel passed out. Thank you for dropping her off, LeRoy. She was in no position to drive."

"I was glad to. I'm only sorry I wasn't able to come in and explain at that time, but…"

"You needed to get Rachel home."

"Yes."

"We know, and we don't blame you."

Mr. Lopez agreed. "When your daughter became unconscious, ours became _more_ conscious. I think it was a good idea to give the both of them some rest. Not to say your daughter is a burden on Santana – I'm not trying to imply anything of the like – but the two of them feeding off each other's stress and…" He sighed, "Spiraling isn't healthy for them. _Both_ of them."

Rachel bit her lip, thinking furiously over the sounds of her fathers agreeing with that statement. As horrible and terrible and exhausting the feeding back and forth _was_ between her and Santana, it wasn't terribly positive for those around them, either. It couldn't be. Ignoring the ones that didn't know what was going on for the moment, those who _did_ know…

Rachel suddenly understood exactly why this meeting was taking place.

Just as Rachel's parents knew of the, what had been until earlier that day – was it really only _hours_ ago? – unknown connection, Santana's parents did as well.

Which made this all the more real.

Final.

Once again, the crushing disappointment of losing what she had been _so_ convinced was her _soulmate_ in the shape of _Santana Lopez_ , someone she had almost _always_ never gotten along with – someone who _lived_ on anger and – Rachel's mind cast about for a usable example, the one she zeroed in on being _unfortunately_ correct – _heartbreak_ – almost smothered her, as if it had just been waiting in the wings to make its disastrous, damaging reappearance. Her eyes started to water, and with her chin already trembling, she wanted to sniff, to clear her throat and nose, to prepare for the emotional upheaval. Instead, with effort, she channeled _everything_ unwelcome into squeezing her hands together so hard her knuckles turned white. It was a coping technique she'd thought she'd outgrown.

"Add in the broken nose and _how_ they found out, with an audience…" Hiram stood up, starting to pace like he normally did when he was anxious or antsy about something. Rachel could hear him. That familiar habit of his, was, she had to admit, closing her eyes to stop a threatening wave of tears, comforting in its own way.

"Which we only found out because Kurt, another of the glee club kids before he moved to another school earlier this year, and Rachel's ex-boyfriend's step-brother, told me," LeRoy explained, "But even his information is only secondhand. Say what you will about teenagers, but they do know how to disseminate information quickly."

That caused a couple chuckles to arrive and quickly dissipate in the space, Mr. Lopez offering a concurring, "Very true."

Silence filled the room again. Breathing deeply through her mouth, in and out, Rachel wondered how many awkward moments had already happened, then wondered how many more _would_ happen. How long would she be able to stay undetected? Or, at the very least, how long before she had to leave if nature called or her legs fell asleep?

Hiram was still pacing when Mr. Lopez finally broke the quiet. It very well could have been a non sequitur if Rachel had come upon the conversation only a few moments ago, but because she had been there as long as she had, to her it only seemed like a probable continuation of an often repeated important question: "What can we do? Shoving them together, hoping to get them to get along _without_ influencing each other's negative emotions, will only develop and support – _prolong_ – acrimony and cause them to hate each other! Who _knows_ what that would do to them?"

"You mean they don't already hate each other?" Hiram asked sharply, his feet finally coming to a stop.

Rachel was surprised at the clear edge of anger in her father's voice. She'd been very shrewd with what she told him and her daddy of what happened at school, so there was no reason he should have been so defensive if the only person he talked to about her school life was her.

…Unless her daddy had told him what had happened outside the Hummel/Hudson house.

Which was very likely. Feeling a little chastened by her own self, Rachel turned her attention back, barely loosening her fists so blood flow could resume, making everything tingle and ache.

"Honey." Admonishing his husband, LeRoy did allow, "Although the shock of everything is undoubtedly supplying more tension, it is true that Rachel and Santana, as far as I know, weren't really even friends to begin with."

Maribel sighed. "That's true. Santana's never spoken about Rachel, not really. She only told us her name when we asked who everyone was in the glee club page in last year's yearbook."

"Isn't that the photo where your daughter and my daughter are holding hands?"

Rachel almost squeaked. That was true. It had been a spur of the moment action on her part, partway fueled by the comradery she thought they'd been gaining after Sectionals and Rachel telling Santana she believed in her, getting a soft, "Thank you," in return. It had been the first time Santana had ever thanked her, or really looked at her as a _person_ , not just a gleek and loser.

Now knowing what was between them, Rachel had to wonder if any of that exchange was due to their mixing emotions? Come to think of it, when she had grabbed the Cheerio's hand, the both of them smiling at the camera while posing next to their trophy, she _had_ felt something like nervousness and a spark of shock, hadn't she? Maybe if she hadn't immediately tried pushing those feelings away, and waited a little longer before readying herself to be documented, this…

No. Rachel barely shook her head, scolding herself. That would _never_ be who she was. She was _always_ going to be focused on showing off her best side, of presenting herself and her talent and who she was. She _always_ had to be ready.

As if mocking her, her fingers barely ghosted across her swollen nose. Tears once again misted in her eyes.

"I'd forgotten about that!"

Hiram's loud comment abruptly snapped Rachel back into focus, though it took her a few extra moments to realize she was just about to fall over on her side. Having been leaning to hear better while the pain meds were soaking in, the added removal of the hand helping to prop herself up in position left her a little off-balance and confused. Slowly righting herself, she wasn't expecting the dry laugh Maribel let out.

"Santí told me it was some kind of 'dare' thing, given to her by Quinn or Brittany. That they all had to pretend everyone was great friends, make the club seem more popular. I don't know. That part really wasn't making much sense, but it's not like I can predict teenage behavior these days."

"And with Santí, it was even more difficult," Mr. Lopez added. "Because, well." He gave a short laugh, free of amusement. "You know."

"We do."

Another one of the absolutely stifling silences happened, and Rachel couldn't help but let a few tears fall when Maribel asked softly, "What are we going to do?"

But it wasn't until her own father's, "How are we going to help them?" that she lost her battle for the second time that day. With her back against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and her forehead on her knees, desperately trying to cry as quietly as she could into her skirt, muffling it, there was one question that repeated with each spike of pain in her continually aching nose:

How _could_ anyone help?


End file.
